


milkshakes

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Monsters, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel Has a Religious Family, Castiel is the opposite of a social butterfly, Gay Panic, M/M, Slow Burn, Sort Of, bless him, ish?, lots of religious talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-25 15:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13837329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Castiel Novak is the least interesting person he knows on the planet, and nothing could ever change that in a million years. Or so he thinks. (Insert Dean Winchester for an interesting time).Basically, a mini journey of self discovery and lord knows where they'll end up.





	1. the one with the cookies

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! (or no one if nobody reads this) this is the first fic I've ever uploaded onto Ao3 before, so I'm 90% scared and 10% dying inside, but 100% in need of any kind of feedback you can offer me, please! Please review if you want me to continue! but also, I hope you enjoy this first chapter regardless (i'm not sure how long the story overall will be!)

Castiel wasn’t sure there had ever been a point in his life when he had been _interesting_.

He just wasn’t, it was a simple as that.

His _brother_ ? Now, _he_ was interesting. Gabriel was funny, he could make people laugh with just a glance - and everyone always did, too - he was charismatic, overly flirtatious with everything that had a pulse, and he didn’t seem to give a crap about what anybody thought of him.

As Gabriel Novak’s younger brother, sometimes his reputation felt a little too hard to even try to live up to.

But, then, what about Castiel’s _sister_?

Destined for great things, would be all Castiel could say about that one. Anna was just… fiery, determined. But sweet and calm all rolled up into one tiny ten year old that still squealed with excitement every time Castiel carried her on his back, or laughed uncontrollably whenever Castiel attempted to plait her hair. She had so much going for her, and so much personality, and…

… and then there was Castiel.

Castiel James Novak. Otherwise known as: the only Novak child who barely left the house (unless dragged by his siblings), who barely broke the rules (unless one of his siblings did first and got him roped in on it - a rare occurrence) and who barely talked to, well, pretty much _anyone_ outside of his family. His family being his brother and his sister - their father was always travelling for work, after all. So, really, only two other people.

As stated previously: Castiel was far from _interesting_. And he didn’t think that was going to change any time soon.

Except for, you know. The boy across the street.

“We’re not making them cookies,” Castiel sighed for the hundredth time that morning, as though he wasn’t already wearing his apron, and Anna wasn’t already standing on a stool at the kitchen counter, stirring some cookie mix aggressively. Castiel just loved being in denial sometimes - almost as much as he absolutely _loved_ being unequivocally wrapped around his little sister’s finger.

“Mhmm,” Anna hummed, not even looking up from the bowl as she licked her fingers clean. Castiel grimaced at the hygiene faux-pas. “My arms are tired,” she declared, stepping off the stool and brushing her hands down her front. “Can you see if it’s ready yet?”

Castiel pressed his lips together, leaning over the bowl and squinting down at its contents for a moment, as though he had any idea what cookie dough ought to look like.

“It looks good enough,” he ventured to say after a pause. “I’m sure Gabe will love them.”

“They’re not for _Gabe_ ,” his sister huffed impatiently, puffing out her cheeks until her fringe bounced against her forehead. “They’re for the boys over the road. You _know_. The ones who always play out in the street, and you won’t let me join them?”

“They’re way older than you, that’s why. And probably older than _me_.”

Castiel emptied out the dough onto the flour covered counter, before allowing himself to be pushed out of the way by a very excited Anna. She didn’t waste any time in rolling out the dough as much as physically possible, and all Castiel could do was hover and watch. He was useless in the kitchen, himself. Really, the only reason he was even here to ‘help’ Anna was just to put everything in the oven when he was told to, because she was way too young to be allowed near hot surfaces unsupervised.

And, yes, Castiel knew exactly what boys Anna was talking about.

One of them looked young enough, Castiel supposed - maybe fourteen or so? - but the other one looked Castiel’s age, maybe even older. Maybe Gabriel’s age. Or maybe Castiel was just exaggerating based on the fact that the boy looked so much taller in comparison to the long haired one.

Regardless, no way was he allowing his ten year old sister to go play soccer with two wild kids who looked double her size.

He’d thought cookies were the tamest option available to them instead, then.

“Why are you so fascinated by them anyway?” Castiel sighed as he handed Anna the cookie cutter absently.

“ _Because_ … they look way more fun than old Mrs Fenner ever was. And I hate being the only kids on this street.” Anna looked up at Castiel then, her eyes bright with excitement, and for a moment… he kind of understood. Just a little bit. “Don’t you want to make friends?” she asked.

Castiel pressed his lips together, leaning against the counter as he thought the question over. He had Charlie, he supposed. She was a friend - the only person he ever talked to at school, anyway, and he had her number, too. She’d invited him over for _Star Wars_ marathons and Castiel had politely declined because he couldn’t just leave Anna to fend for herself overnight. That, and he still wasn’t sure what _Star Wars_ was about, or whether he’d be able to endure a whole night of it.

Other than that, though… yeah. He didn’t really hang out with anybody else. But it wasn’t like he _wanted_ to - and he was seventeen, so there was only a year to go until he left for college, so it wasn’t like there was any point in him making any friends now. He’d sort of missed the boat in that department - if that was the phrase.

“Well?” Anna prompted, and Castiel blinked, consumed with his thoughts.

“What?”

“Don’t you want to make friends?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, thinking it over some more before he shrugged, nudging Anna’s shoulder with his own. “I’ve got you, haven’t I? We’re friends.”  
  
Anna’s nose wrinkled. “Lame. I can’t be your only friend.”

“Charlie?”

“She’s too cool to be your friend.”  
  
Castiel scoffed. “Then what on earth am I supposed to do, in your opinion, oh wise one?”

He grinned as Anna tilted her head in thought. After a moment, she tapped the tray she’d been filling with freshly cut cookie dough. “You’re supposed to put this in the oven, and then we’re going to go meet our new friends across the road.”

Again, Castiel’s mouth opened and closed with some form of a response, before he clenched his jaw and gave up. It wasn’t like he had much of a backbone anyway, so obviously he was going to do as he was told.

In all honesty, the cookies didn’t turn out so bad. Castiel wasn’t surprised, though - Anna always had a knack at being good at things she put her mind to, and she was certainly determined to make those cookies, after all.

Which is how Castiel managed to find himself stood on Mrs Fenner’s ex-doorstep with a container of unevenly shaped cookies in his hands as Anna bounced excitedly on her tiptoes and rang the doorbell. He had to stop her from ringing it twice - _impatience_ , he thought idly, _that was Anna’s downfall_. Patience was the one thing Castiel thought he might have.

Castiel felt his stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot of anxiety when he heard a muffled voice behind the door, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock. This had been a terrible idea.

Thankfully, it was the shorter boy with the long hair who appeared in the doorway a moment later. Far less intimidating than the older one. He looked wary, though, his fringe falling into his eyes as he glanced between Castiel and Anna.

“Uh, hi.”

Castiel smiled, opening his mouth to say something before Anna was cutting him off.

“Hello!” she beamed, sticking out her hand in greeting. The boy took it seemingly without thought. “I’m Anna. We live across the road and - well, we made you cookies, if you want some?”

Something akin to suspicion seemed to pass across the other boy’s face, but Anna was already taking the container from Castiel’s hands and popping the lid open. She showed the boy the freshly baked cookies, and his face split into a surprised smile.

“Neat! You didn’t have to do that or anything,” he said, eyes still fixed completely on the cookies. “There’s no way I can just take your food like that.”  
  
“But we made them for you.”

Castiel didn’t even need to look down to know what that tone of voice meant. It meant Anna was as close to pouting as possible without going all the way. He rolled his eyes, a hand landing on his sister’s shoulder in a mixture of reassurance and warning. “You don’t have to take them if you really don’t want to,” he assured the boy, “Anna just wanted to say hi. We’re the only other kids on the street - it was just… to introduce ourselves, I suppose.”

Even as the boy opened his mouth to reply, a much deeper voice sounded out behind him.

“Sammy? Did you get the d-”

The voice trailed away as a figure appeared behind the boy - Sammy? - hovering just next to the doorway. It was the taller boy, and whilst he looked a lot younger close up than Castiel had given him credit for, his voice yet again had the Novak convinced that he was secretly in his twenties. His eyes landed on Castiel’s and stuck there. “Uh, hey,” was all he said.

“Hello,” Castiel murmured back.

There was a beat of silence, the taller boy blinking in what seemed to be confusion for a moment, before ‘Sammy’ was clearing his throat and suddenly any tension immediately seemed to dissipate. Although, Castiel could still feel the older boy’s eyes on him as he looked down at the other. It made his neck warm. “I’m Sam,” Sam affirmed with a nod that made his hair fall even more so into his eyes. “Are you sure about the cookies?”

“More than sure.” Castiel was now just desperate to get back to the safe confines of his room where he didn’t have to worry about good first impressions or whether he maybe should have changed into a nicer shirt - this one had three holes and counting. Quite large ones, too. “We should probably leave you to it, though,” Castiel continued, shuffling backwards, down the front step. Anna politely followed (for once) without argument.

“I hope they taste good,” she grinned, as though she hadn’t already eaten two and saved another for later. “And maybe we can play together sometime?”

“Sure,” Sam grinned, eyes bright. “They look amazing, seriously, you guys are great. Cookies are-”

“-Cookies are awesome,” the older boy declared, finally tearing his gaze away from Castiel so that he could focus on the container - the lid of which he immediately popped open. Castiel watched as he grinned, face lighting up. He grabbed one, took a bite and Castiel watched as his eyes rolled back in delight. “Man,” he mumbled around his mouthful. “ _Awe-fum_.”

By Castiel’s side, Anna giggled. In the doorway, Sam grimaced.

Seemingly oblivious to everybody’s reactions, however, the older boy swallowed down the remainder of his cookie and wiped his hand across his mouth, offering his free one to Castiel over Sam’s shoulder. “They taste like heaven,” he said, “what’s your name, again?”

Hesitantly, Castiel reached forward and clasped their hands together briefly. “Castiel.”

“Casteel?”

“Casti- _el_.”

For the first time, the boy blushed. It only made his freckles stand out even more. “Castiel,” he repeated slower than before, correctly this time. He cleared his throat. “I’m Dean. You make these?”

Castiel shook his head, mind having a brief horror-flash as to what the cookies might have turned out looking like if he had made them. They would be burnt to a crisp, for sure. “Anna did,” he said.

Dean paused then before he was aiming his grin over at Anna instead, hand forming a first which he held out to her. “Bring it in, buddy. There are the best damn cookies I’ve ever tasted.”

Anna’s face lit up as she laughed, her fist bumping against Dean’s neatly before she tucked herself into Castiel’s side - reduced to a rare form of shyness from Dean’s compliments.

Now that they had both moved out of the doorway some, it was easier for Castiel to get a proper look at the two brothers stood before him - a better look than just a fleeting glance at them when they were playing soccer out on the street, anyway. Close up, it was easy to tell they were siblings. Even though Sam still probably had a fair bit of growing left to do, it was obvious that the two of them would end up both being similarly long and lanky. Dean looked broader and stronger in all the places where Sam seemed scrawnier, yet the two of them still looked as though they could best Castiel in a fight any day of the week. Although, that probably said more about his incompetence than it did about their ability.

Another similarity, he noted absently: they both had incredibly kind eyes.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” Castiel said finally, still thinking of his bedroom and how relaxing it would be to be back on his own again. “I hope you enjoy the cookies.”

“Thanks, man,” Dean grinned as Sam nodded. “Maybe see you around some time?”

Castiel thought it over in the back of his mind. “Maybe,” he said aloud, but internally he was just hoping that they would remain the kind of neighbors that merely smiled at each other briefly as they passed in the street. It was nothing personal (they seemed very nice), but Castiel had been content without having friends for neighbors and neighbors for friends for literally his whole life now, and he didn’t see why that needed changing any time soon.

As Anna and Sam murmured their goodbyes, Castiel turned to head back across the road, his sister following a short while afterwards. He tried not to think about the way Dean had been looking at him before when he'd first appeared in the doorway - the same way he tried to ignore the way his cheeks were heating up just by thinking about it - but it had probably been nothing. Why would it even have been _something_? He was just overthinking things, as always.

Still. He had to admit that the two boys across the road definitely did seem somewhat… interesting.


	2. the one with the scraped knees and bumblebees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! I just wanted to really quickly say THANK YOU!!! so so much to everyone who commented on my last chapter! honestly, it motivated me so much to get this one finished, which is why I'm updating it so much faster than I thought I would :D also, I just really wanted to get the story somewhat moving, so I hope this chapter is slightly more interesting than the last! please let me know how I can improve / if you think I should continue, I appreciate it so much! <3

Barely a day passed before Castiel heard anything from the boys across the road again.

Not that he’d been thinking about them at all. Actually, he was just slightly bitter that they’d accepted the cookies from Anna in the first place, meaning that Castiel had been deprived of eating the whole container himself.

He was gazing up at his ceiling idly, a book abandoned across his chest as he lay on his bed, watching the way the ceiling slanted together neatly. Castiel had the attic room, meaning he was constantly visited by spiders and he always had to wear extra layers to keep from catching a cold due to the perpetual draft that made even the current summer heat feel cool. He liked it, though. He liked the fact that he had to climb up a ladder to get to his room - it was like retreating into his own safe, secure little bubble - and he liked the fact that his windowsill was big enough for him to sit on entirely and look at the stars at night, _and_ for him to keep houseplants on it, too. They had names as well.

Another good thing about being in the attic room was that it was nearly impossible for Castiel to hear _anything_ else that was happening in the house around him. Which was a blessing as Anna and Gabriel were hardly the quietest of siblings. 

With his window open, however - as it was that morning - Castiel was easily able to hear everything from the street outside. Including the high-pitched scream which immediately caused his stomach to drop.

Kids didn’t live on his street. It was only him, his brother and sister, and now the boys across the road.

And that had definitely been the scream of a little girl.

Eyes widening, Castiel pushed the book off his chest hastily and sat up. He wasted no time in clambering off his bed, hurrying over to his window so that he could look down at the street below - and sure enough… there was Anna.

Instant panic spread through him as he looked down at his little sister on the street, and he barely even registered the two boys there with her before he was scrambling off his windowsill and hurrying down his ladder. He didn’t even give himself a chance to pull on shoes before he was bursting through the front door and out onto the street in his socks.

“Anna!” he called out, feeling the panic twisting in his stomach. 

It was only when three pairs of eyes immediately landed on him, that suddenly Castiel began to feel a little sheepish.

Anna was fine. Obviously. He glanced at her knees, relieved to see that they weren’t at all scraped, and she had no bruises on her legs or arms… in fact, she was smiling. Widely. Although, it had started to fade at the sight of her older brother, and a moment later she was rolling her eyes.

“I’m not coming in,” she told Castiel defiantly, her arms crossing over her chest. The soccer ball they’d been playing with was now tucked beneath Sam’s arm against his hip, and he looked between Castiel and Anna a little nervously. “It’s fun, Cas. Play with us.” 

Castiel eyed the ball carefully, before he looked up at Sam who was still holding it.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbled, unprompted. He looked a little guilty, and maybe he should do. It wasn’t as though Anna had even asked for permission before sneaking out to go play on the road - and Sam and Dean were definitely old enough to see how that was a bad idea. “We just came over to give you the food container back, but somehow, we, uh…”

“Ended up having a good time,” Dean supplied with more confidence than his brother. He smirked, pushing the ball out from under Sam’s arm and catching it easily. Without any kind of warning, he threw the it straight at Castiel.

The sudden force of the ball took Castiel off guard, but he caught it with ease, his eyes not moving from Dean’s face. For a brief moment, Castiel thought Dean might actually have looked impressed.

“Best way to keep an eye on your sister is to join in, right?” Dean pushed, and there was a slight challenge to his tone. One which Castiel didn’t appreciate.

Castiel knew how to play soccer - obviously. Sort of.

“Or I could just confiscate your ball,” he shot back regardless, raising an eyebrow as he took a step backwards, back into the doorway of his house. He watched Dean’s face flicker with what looked like indignation, but it could easily have been amusement too.

Any challenge, however, was lost on Anna who then sighed dramatically, her hands moving to land on her hips. “Just give him the ball back, Cassie!” she huffed. “And stop being so boring and come _play_ with us!”

At the nickname, Castiel shot his sister a scowl, his cheeks flushing - but he refrained from snapping at her childishly for using it. Instead, he reached behind the front door for his sneakers before pulling them on and tying them up tightly.

It was only once he was heading down his drive that Castiel started to realize just how appalling an idea this was. Yes, of course he knew how to play soccer. _Theoretically_. But the only sports teams he was on at school was track and swimming - and they weren’t team sports for a reason.

When he reached the end of his drive, Castiel paused, looking between the three people in front of him. Anna had run back excitedly, jumping on the balls of her feet with a pleased squeal (suddenly the scream from earlier made far more sense) whilst Sam and Dean had moved apart, giving Castiel space to kick the ball to either of them.

Was there a goal? What was even the point of this game? Was it just to kick the ball back and forth, or would tackling be involved, too?

_Jesus_. Castiel didn’t want to tackle anybody.

He looked over at the three of them waiting, eyes squinting a little in the sunlight, before he finally dropped the ball to his feet and kicked it, watching as it curved in the air briefly before rolling straight in Dean’s direction.

“Nice one!” Dean beamed, catching the ball with his feet expertly.

Castiel didn’t mention he’d been aiming for Sam.

He watched as Dean passed the ball to Sam, who passed to Anna carefully, and then back to Castiel, who aimed for Dean - and wound up sending it to Sam instead.

Neither of them commented on his poor aim, or the fact that he stumbled occasionally whenever the ball got between his feet too much - instead, the two of them didn’t even seem to notice. Or they were just politely ignoring it for the sake of Castiel’s dignity. Every time Anna passed the ball successfully, Sam would whoop and cheer her on, and every time Castiel managed to stop the ball from rolling between his legs, Dean would yell something vaguely encouraging from the other side of the road.

They were actually quite kind, Castiel thought idly.

And just kicking a ball around wasn’t so bad after all. It was surprisingly peaceful.

Well… it was peaceful right up until Sam decided to make a break for the ball that Castiel had passed Dean’s way.

Castiel watched as the younger brother charged over to Dean with a shout of laughter, and Dean braced himself as their legs tangled together, with Sam skilfully managing to tackle the ball from between Dean’s feet. “Son of a bitch!” Dean was shouting, but everyone could hear the amusement in his voice (although, Castiel didn’t approve of the foul language with Anna so near by).

After that, things got competitive.

Dean suggested forming teams of two - the Novaks vs the Winchesters (which turned out to be their last name) - but Castiel pointed out the fact that the Winchesters had the unfair advantage of being far more experienced at the game. They then debated the teams be young vs old - but again, Castiel pointed out that one team would still have an advantage. Eventually, they settled on half and half. Which is how Castiel found himself on Sam’s team, with Anna on Dean’s.

And it got intense.

As it turned out, Dean Winchester apparently had no issue with playing rough with a kid he’d known for less than 24 hours. Before, it had been all smiles and gentle nudges of the ball over to Castiel - but now he was downright _evil_.

“Ouch!” Castiel hissed as Dean kicked at his shin in an attempt to tackle the ball that Sam had foolishly passed his way. “You can’t kick at me - that’s a foul, I swear.” “I didn’t kick at you, you got in the way,” Dean argued, not looking up from the ball as Castiel scrambled to keep it in his possession.

He wasn’t exactly tactical when it came to teamwork, so he didn’t even think to try and pass to Sam, instead Castiel wound up turning around to keep his back to Dean, his arms spread out in an attempt to keep the boy behind him, even as Dean’s feet got between Castiel’s. “Are you always… this… _insistent_?” Castiel growled between gritted teeth, and he heard Dean’s snigger from over his shoulder.

“Castiel - Jesus - _over here_!” Sam yelled, and the glance in his direction was what cost Castiel _everything_.

He felt himself lose his footing, still trying to keep the ball away from Dean as he scrambled to grab onto something - _anything_ \- that might help him maintain his balance. And if that just so happened to be Dean’s arm, then so be it. Castiel grabbed at Dean tightly, turning around before he kicked the ball as hard as possible, sending it sailing between Dean’s legs and right over to Sam.

“You can’t grab at me like that,” Dean spluttered indignantly. 

Castiel shot him a look. “You kicked me in the shin, remember?”

“On _accident_ , maybe, but you grabbed me on _purpose_ , man. That’s cheating for sure.”

“My grab was equally as accidental as you claim your _kick_ was. It wasn’t even that h-”

“- _HEADS!_ ”

The sound of Sam’s yell caught the two of them off guard, and the next thing Castiel knew, Dean’s hand was on his back, pushing him down as the ball flew straight over their heads. Just missing them.

There was a pause between them, with Castiel’s heart hammering in his chest as he looked over at Dean and Dean held his gaze for a moment. Both of them glanced ahead at the same time. In the distance, seemingly miles away, Castiel could see the ball now bouncing down the road.

No way was he letting Dean get possession of it again.

It seemed as though Dean had the exact same thought, because once again they were meeting each other’s eyes, and Castiel could see the silent challenge in Dean’s. Which he instantly returned.

Without another word, the two of them were off.

Sure, Castiel wasn’t good at some sports - but he was good at running. It was his thing, pretty much. And unfortunately, it appeared to be Dean’s thing too. Frustratingly, the Winchester kept up with his pace easily, and Castiel could feel the other boy’s shoulder nudging against his own to try and throw him off stride.

“ _Stop_ it,” Castiel huffed as he ran, elbowing Dean in the side. They were getting nearer the ball now, and Dean’s attempts to get even a half stride ahead were getting ridiculous.

“Don’t elbow me!” Dean grunted back. Elbowing him was the _least_ Castiel could do.

If Dean was insistent on playing dirty, then it was about time Castiel properly started repaying the favour. And with that in mind, he pushed at Dean’s shoulder _hard_ with his own, watching as the other boy stumbled to try and find his footing again - now half a step behind Castiel. Half a step was definitely enough.

With a triumphant snigger, Castiel reached the ball first. He was just nudging it between his feet, with every intention of returning the ball straight back to Sam, when arms suddenly wrapped around his middle, a heavy force charging into him.

“What the-?” Castiel breathed, Dean’s feet suddenly tangling with his own as he tried to get the ball back. “You’re a cheat - you can’t just _charge_ at me, that’s-” but he never managed to tell Dean exactly what it was, because a moment later Castiel was losing his footing for the final time. He fell forwards over the ball, and as his stomach sank with regret, he just managed to grab onto Dean and yank the boy down with him. The two of them hit the ground painfully, with Castiel skidding across the asphalt on his knees, with Dean collapsing almost on top of him.

“Fucking hell,” Castiel heard the Winchester mutter, and he was just grateful Anna wasn’t within ear shot.

Rolling onto his back with a hiss of pain, Castiel looked up at Dean and scowled. His knees were burning, as was the heel of his left hand which he’d thrown out to steady his fall, and everything stung as he moved, but he ignored that as he started to push Dean off of him. “You’re an idiot,” was all he said, trying to wipe his hands clean on his jeans, but it was then that he realized he was bleeding. For crying out _loud_.

With an apologetic grimace, Dean pushed himself off the ground, offering Castiel a hand and pulling him up a moment later. Dean’s jeans were ripped at the front, meaning it was easy to see how red they were. Maybe he’d fallen just as badly as Castiel had, then?

“Are you guys okay?” Sam asked, appearing at Dean’s side, looking a little worried. “You should probably get cleaned up or something.”

“M’fine,” Dean shrugged, brushing his hands on his jeans.

“Dean, you’re _bleeding_.”

“Yeah, and so’s Cas,” he huffed.

Castiel looked down at his own knees, and sure enough, the front of his jeans were ruined from his fall. The material was almost ripped all the way through, and it was darkened with dirt and blood. He sighed. “I’ve got bandaids inside,” he told Dean. “You need some too.”

“We can carry on playing, right?” piped up Anna, sounding hopeful. And Castiel didn’t even have the energy to argue.

“Fine. But be careful,” was all he said, before he was heading back to his house, with Dean just behind him. Every time Castiel bent his knees he had to stop himself from wincing. It didn’t help that Dean had managed to attain the same level of injury as him yet somehow seemed perfectly unbothered by it.

As the two of them trudged indoors and toed their shoes off in the entrance hall, it occurred to Castiel just how bizarre this entire situation was.

It wasn’t like he even _knew_ Dean. They weren’t at all _friends_. Yet, now Dean had been to his house more times than Charlie ever had been (and Charlie was someone Castiel actually _liked_ ). He wasn’t sure how he felt about Dean just yet, especially not now that he had throbbing knees because of him.

“The kitchen’s through here,” Castiel mumbled as he led the way. It was weird seeing Dean in his house - his dirty jeans and sweaty band shirt just didn’t look as though it _belonged_ in the Novak’s neat and tidy home, yet Dean appeared to be entirely unaware of that fact as he wandered in after Castiel, glancing around the room curiously. Castiel moved to go wet some cloth for them both, and when he turned around, it was to find Dean sat on his kitchen counter, peeling his jeans away from his knees and acting as though he’d known Castiel for years already; as though they’d done this a thousand times before when they certainly _hadn’t_.

As Castiel handed Dean the wet cloth, he refrained from saying that sitting on top of table surfaces was against his father’s house rules. Instead, he fished out the first aid shoebox from one of the drawers and hesitated only briefly before deciding to join him. It was breaking the rules, sure, but Dean was doing it already, so Castiel might as well join in. Besides, it wasn’t like his father was around.

“Sorry about your knees, man,” Dean said quietly as they wiped at their wounds, their jeans rolled up to their thighs. “I didn’t exactly think it through.”

Castiel shrugged. “It’s fine. You’re pretty serious about soccer, though.”

“Nah,” Dean laughed, “I’m just not a fan of losing, is all.”

That was fair enough, Castiel supposed. Not many people did like losing.

Usually, Castiel wasn’t at all bothered about it. He always came last when they played Monopoly, and he was terrible at games like charades - it had never bothered him, though. He lost because he wasn’t any good at the game, simple as. It usually only upset Castiel when he lost at the things he _was_ good at. Like words with friends, or chess, or swimming races.

But he could remember how badly he hadn’t wanted to lose against Dean earlier. That had been new. It was as though Dean’s own competitiveness had been almost infectious.

“How old are you?” Castiel asked suddenly, as he picked up the shoebox and started rummaging through all the first aid kit they’d collected over the years. He realized then that he had a hundred and one questions he wanted to ask Dean. His age was just the first thing that had come to mind.

“Seventeen. You?”

_Seventeen_? They were the same age? But Dean seemed so much _older_. Of course, his demeanour so far seemed relatively childish (he had just knocked Castiel into the ground, after all) but everything else about him made Castiel think he was at least a year or so older. There was just something about the way he held himself, and the fact that he was taller and broader than Castiel was.

Although, he had quite a young face, Castiel supposed. He was all bright eyed and freckled. Tanned, too. And he had hair that shone almost golden in the sun.

Really, Dean was quite beautiful.

“Cas?”

Castiel blinked, his eyebrows raising as he registered the fact that he’d been staring. And the fact that he still hadn’t answered Dean’s question.

“Oh. I’m eighteen in September,” he supplied after a heartbeat’s pause. “But I’m seventeen right now.”

Dean smiled lopsidedly at that, his eyes creasing at the corners as he rolled them before he went back to cleaning his knees again. “I know how to count, dude. Didn’t think we’d be in the same year though… I thought you were older.”

“You thought _I_ was older?”

At Castiel’s incredulity, Dean looked up. “Uh, yeah. I dunno.” He shrugged a little sheepishly and Castiel passed him the packet of bandaids to fiddle with as he thought. “You just seemed kinda serious at first,” he finally said.

“I’m not serious,” Castiel protested as he stuck a bandaid across his own knee, flattening it smoothly. They were kiddie ones from when he’d been younger. The three of them had always picked out ones with cool designs on them: Anna’s were covered in cats, Gabriel’s in dinosaurs, and Castiel’s were covered in bumblebees. He hated using them in case he ran out one day. “I know how to have fun,” Castiel continued. “I played soccer with you, didn’t I?”

“Because your sister told you to,” Dean smirked. “What else d’you do for fun around here?”

_Well_.

“Not a lot,” he admitted, deciding he couldn’t even lie about it. All Castiel did for fun was read and play piano. He didn’t exactly have any other extracurricular activities aside from that. “Nothing, actually.”

“Not a single thing?”

“There’s nothing _to_ do. This town’s quite small, you know, there’s nothing here.”

Dean looked vaguely horrified at that. “Kill me, we might just have to start finding ways to entertain ourselves then,” he snorted. “Permission to drag you along with me?”

That made no sense to Castiel. “What are you talking about?”

Dean pushed himself off the counter, unrolling his jeans and checking to make sure the bandaids remained intact. If he noticed the childish design on them, then he didn’t comment on it.

“I mean, I’m sure as hell not sitting around and wasting my whole summer indoors,” he explained then. Although, it still didn’t really explain much.

Dean must have noticed Castiel’s blank expression because once again he was rolling his eyes good naturedly.

“I’m asking if you wanna hang out some more, Cas. We’re the same age an’ all, and we might end up being in the same class at school and stuff. Might as well make the most of it.”

“What school do you go to?”

Dean looked dubious. “There’s more than one?”

It was a reasonable question. With the town being so small, it made perfect sense for there to only be one school, but alas, it wasn’t the case. “There are two,” Castiel told him. “I go to the Catholic one.” It was smaller than the main one, and it was generally easy to see who else went there because the uniform was mandatory.

Something akin to surprise passed across Dean’s face. “You’re religious?”

Castiel nodded. “My whole family is.” He unrolled his jeans and slid off the counter, moving to wash his hands in the sink.

“Oh right,” was all Dean said. “Yeah, we go to the main one instead, then.”

That was a shame, Castiel thought idly. Maybe it would have been nice to go to school with someone who lived across the road? They could have walked home together. Castiel could have helped Dean with his homework, if need be.

Then again, as had already been decided in Castiel’s head, it wasn’t as though he and Dean were friends. Or even were going to be friends. And Castiel was perfectly content with spending his summer on his own or with his siblings, thank you very much.

“So, you game for finding fun stuff to do together?” Dean asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Castiel thought about his books and his piano, and he thought about his bedroom with his plants and drawing pads. He thought about his sister, about going to the park with her and pushing her on the swings.

And then he thought about Dean.

He was just some random boy who’d moved in on Thursday, and Castiel still didn’t really know anything about him, apart from the fact that they were the same age and that Dean seemed pretty keen on the two of them spending time together.

He thought about it.

“Maybe,” was what he said at last.

Dean eyed him for a moment before nodding. “I’ll take a maybe.”

There was a lull in the conversation as Castiel dried his hands and poured them both a glass of water each. In a moment, they’d no doubt be heading back outside - Dean to return home, and Castiel collect Anna for lunch - but for now, Castiel was content to just remain in the quietness of the kitchen, pretending to not notice the way Dean kept looking in his direction. Each glance, no matter how brief, seemed to be filled with an equal measure of intensity. It was bizarre, but not entirely unpleasant.

What broke the silence, eventually, was a resounding _thud_ from upstairs.

Dean looked up at the ceiling in surprise. “Is there someone else home?” he asked.

Castiel shook his head, entirely nonplussed. “My brother’s at work. It’s probably Sir Gideon.”

“You have a brother?” Dean asked, before he shook his head, face creasing in confusion. “Wait, who the hell is _Sir Gideon_?”

“She’s Anna’s cat,” Castiel sighed. “And yes, I have a brother. His name’s Gabriel.”

“You’ve lost me, man. Sir Gideon’s a girl?”

“Mm. For some reason Anna was adamant that would be her name.” Castiel shrugged, making his way over to the kitchen door as Dean drained his glass and followed. They moved through the house, making their way over to the front door where Dean’s shoes remained abandoned. “She’s quite unpleasant to everyone but Anna, though, so I would recommend avoiding her if possible.”

Dean held up his hands as if in surrender. “No need to tell me twice. I fuckin’ hate cats.”

At that, Castiel managed a faint smile. “I like most, just not Sir Gideon. Not when she’s in a bad mood anyway.” He watched as Dean pulled his shoes back on, the laces untangled, but Dean didn’t bother to do them back up. “Fortunately, she doesn’t come into my room too often because she hates climbing the ladder.”

“You have a ladder to get to your bedroom?”

The questions seemed endless, Castiel thought absently. He forgot how tiresome it was to not know someone entirely - with Charlie and his siblings, he didn’t have to explain himself all the time, and he didn’t have to ask so many questions of his own.

“Yes, I have a ladder,” Castiel explained patiently as he opened the front door, allowing Dean to step outside first. “My bedroom used to be the attic.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder at that, before he was heading halfway down Castiel’s drive and looking up, no doubt realizing that Castiel’s house had an extra window where no other house on the street did. He raised his eyebrows, as though impressed, and when he next met Castiel’s eyes, his own green ones looked almost golden in the sun. Along with the rest of him. He just seemed to be glowing in the summer heat, and it didn’t help that he happened to smile so brightly, too. Castiel had been right before. Beauty seemed to come so easily to this boy.

“Cool,” Dean hummed after a pause, and Castiel managed to drag himself out of his thoughts. “Anyway, I’m sorry about your knees again. Next time we tackle, I’ll make sure you come out on top.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Castiel smirked. “I don’t think soccer is my calling.”

“But exploring the town, though.” Dean quirked an eyebrow knowingly. “Exploring the town is gonna be your new calling. Lemme know if you think of anything crazy fun we can do round here, yeah?”

Dean was weird, Castiel decided. Weird, but oddly determined to just have fun. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing?

“I’ll let you know,” Castiel promised. “Can you tell Anna to come inside for lunch?”

At the question, Dean nodded, and Castiel hovered in the doorway of his house as he watched the Winchester head back across the road, stopping to talk to Anna briefly. It was only once Anna was back inside, her fringe sticking to her forehead with sweat and her cheeks red from the exertion, that Castiel finally closed the door. With the door shut, he thought he might be able to forget about the Winchesters for a while.

God, was he wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you liked it, or just with general advice on how you think I can improve! It means a ton <3


	3. the one where the sky is awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! another (relatively?) speedy update from me I think; I hope you enjoy this chapter! please lemme know how i'm doing in the comments / how you think I can improve! <3

Dean Winchester somehow managed to consume Castiel's mind during the days after their soccer game, and he had absolutely no idea how to make it stop.

He thought of Dean as he kneeled during prayer at Sunday morning church, his knees throbbing from the pressure, a reminder of when they'd fallen to the ground. And he'd thought of Dean as he'd finished his homework for school that Sunday night; about how Dean would be starting school the next day, but not Castiel's one. He wondered if Dean would quickly find other friends to help him fulfil his supposedly ‘fun’ summer plans. Maybe he'd forget about Castiel, then? And Castiel could go back to before, when he’d been content with Charlie being his one friend outside of his siblings, and he wouldn't have to worry about trying to get along with anybody else.

As Castiel head for school each morning with Anna and Gabriel, a tiny part of him hoped he would see Sam and Dean across the road, heading for school themselves. They'd be going in the opposite direction, of course, but even so… Castiel just wanted to bump into the brothers again. They only lived a stone’s throw away, and yet, when they weren’t outside playing soccer on the road, it was almost as though they didn’t even exist at all. For days, Castiel would pass their house, and a tiny part of him would wonder if it was empty again, as it had been after old Mrs Fenner and her twenty thousand dogs had moved out.

In his mind, he imagined a variety of conversations between him and the eldest Winchester. In every variation, Castiel imagined Dean smiling again because of something he’d said, the same way he’d smiled as he’d left Castiel’s house that Saturday.

However, of course, when Castiel did finally see Dean Winchester again, none of his desired outcomes happened.

It was Thursday afternoon, later than usual, and Castiel was cycling home alone after swim practice. His hair was damp and his legs burned from overexertion, and the only thing on his mind was the idea of immediately curling up in bed and falling straight asleep. He almost cycled past the Winchester’s house, completely unaware, had he not heard the muffled shouting from somewhere inside.

Slowing down, Castiel stuck a foot out to balance himself as he paused, looking across the road at the unsuspecting house. The garage door was swung all the way open, inviting him to look at the sleek, black car parked inside. Castiel wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it before, but he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to such details.

He flinched when he heard something bang from inside, and the next thing he knew, Dean appeared in the garage, the side door to the house slamming shut behind him. He looked more red faced than usual, and Castiel watched as he paused, taking a deep breath. After a moment, Castiel felt his own face heat up with the realization that he was definitely intruding on Dean’s privacy, but as he moved to push off the street and pull into his drive, he heard his bike creak and winced from the noise.

Across the road, Dean looked up. Castiel felt his heart stop for a moment.

What had he planned in his head again? Oh, yes. _Not this_.

Instead of saying something, though, Dean’s face merely softened just slightly, the two of them looking at each other for another heartbeat before he was turning around and grabbing a bucket and sponge off the floor.

Just like that, the moment had passed, and without another thought, Castiel was pushing himself forward and cycling up his drive, abandoning his bike in his own garage as he head indoors without looking back.

And if he replayed that moment in his head for the next four hours or so, whilst he had his dinner and practiced the piano, then it was only because he was trying to understand what had been going on. And it wasn’t at all because he was trying to commit to memory the way that Dean’s expression had changed at the sight of him - because that would be ridiculous.

It probably wouldn’t be days before he saw Dean again, Castiel thought as he lay in bed that night, his arms tucked behind his head as he watched a spider crawling idly across the glow in the dark stars he had tacked to his ceiling. One day he would take those down.

He pressed his lips together, listening to the sound of his own breathing. The steady rise and fall of it as he lay there, absorbing the silence.

Right until he heard a tap.

Frowning, Castiel held his breath. There was another tap; then another, louder this time. He sat up on his elbows, looking across the room at his window - it sounded like… but no. Why would something be tapping at his window?

When Castiel heard the noise again a moment later, he could ignore it no longer. He switched his bedside lamp on and climbed out of bed, his heart hammering in his chest as he moved over to the window, careful to avoid the creakiest of his floorboards so as to not wake up anybody else in the house. He pulled back the drapes carefully, only to flinch back as something cracked against the glass of his window. Was that a _stone_?

Heart stopping in surprise, Castiel climbed onto his windowsill and looked down at the street, his eyebrows lifting when he saw… _Dean_?

Flicking the lock, Castiel pushed open the window and leaned out, looking down at Dean who paused in his assault. He was wearing a hoodie and a large, leather jacket. One which Castiel hadn’t seen before, but he thought it suited the other boy quite well.

“What’re you doing?” Castiel tried to whisper, but of course, it ended up being more of a shout in an attempt for Dean to hear him.

“Tryna get your attention,” Dean shrugged, looking proud of himself. It didn’t seem to even occur to the other boy that maybe Castiel wouldn’t _appreciate_ having stones thrown at his window at… _one o’clock in the morning_?

“It’s 1AM, Dean. What do you want?”

Dean seemed completely unbothered by Castiel’s bluntness, which was probably a good thing - Anna sometimes scolded him for being too abrupt or rude in his speech, but maybe it just went straight over Dean’s head.

“Come outside,” was all the Winchester said, picking up one of his abandoned stones and craning his arm back.

“Stop it,” Castiel hissed. Dean didn’t listen. The stone landed against one of the roof tiles before sliding down into the drains, causing Castiel to scowl. “It’s past curfew, if my father found out…”

“Then don’t let him find out,” Dean said simply. He made it sound so easy. “C’mon, Cas. Live a little,” he continued, clearly trying to entice Castiel. And, admittedly, it was working. “I got a fun idea.”

“What’s the idea?”

“You’ll see. Bring your bike with you.”

Castiel frowned at that, trying to figure out the correlation between him coming outside, and Dean needing his bike. At one in the morning. On a school night.

Everything about this was a bad idea, Castiel thought, even as he climbed off his windowsill and searched for a hoodie to pull on. He wasn’t even sure why he was listening to Dean. He barely even knew the boy, after all, Dean could be a complete psychopath. Maybe he was luring Castiel out of his bed in the middle of the night just so that he could murder him more efficiently without anybody around?

Or maybe Castiel was just being dramatic.

He held his breath as he climbed down his ladder as quietly as possible, hating the way every footfall caused it to creak. Thankfully, however, he could still hear the snores from his father’s room as he reached the top of the stairs. He made it to the bottom floor and into the garage easy enough, pausing as he reached for this bike.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

He had training in the morning, he needed to sleep. And it was dark outside - what if something happened and Castiel was stuck in the dark, on his own? How would he even begin to explain that to his father?

But then Castiel made the mistake of thinking about Dean, and curiosity got the better of him.

He swung the garage door open, raising an eyebrow at Dean in his drive. He took some satisfaction in the way that the Winchester actually looked surprised.

“Didn’t think you’d be that easy to persuade,” Dean grinned as Castiel wheeled his bike over to him.

“I didn’t think you’d stop throwing rocks unless I came.”

Dean looked a little sheepish at that. “I’ll leave you alone, if you want,” he smirked after a pause, and Castiel nearly rolled his eyes. It was as though Dean knew he’d been running circles round Castiel’s mind for days now.

“Just tell me what your fun plan is,” he muttered instead, swinging a leg over his bike and sitting down on the seat. He didn’t expect Dean to move around him and climb onto the back.

Hands settled on Castiel’s shoulders as Dean made himself comfortable, leaning against him for a moment. Castiel swallowed.

“What’re you doing?” He looked over his shoulder, glancing down at the makeshift seat Dean had claimed for himself. He was sat on the rear rack of Castiel’s bike, his knees bent to keep his feet off the ground and away from the pedals. It looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Dean chuckled, and Castiel could feel the breath of his laugh against his neck. It made his cheeks heat up for some reason. Again, he found himself thinking that this had to be the worst idea he’d had in a while. He should just get off his bike and go back to bed, and leave Dean to do his crazy stuff by himself. “You know the park, right?”

“Of course.” Castiel had lived in this town for far longer than Dean. It was a stupid question.

He pushed off the ground, his feet settling on the pedals as he started to move the bike forward. With the weight of Dean at his back, he moved a lot slower than usual, and his legs were burning in protest at every movement - reminding him of the fact that he’d spent far too long exercising already that day.

“You know the hill on the way there?” he heard Dean ask somewhere near his ear. The other boy’s words reverberated against Castiel’s back from where Dean was pressed forward against him.

“What about it?” Castiel mumbled distractedly, focusing on keeping them balanced.

“Just cycle to the hill.”

“What d’you want to do there?”

“Jesus, Cas, you got a patient bone in your body?”

Dean couldn’t see, but Castiel scowled at that. He had patience, of course, he just wasn’t about to get messed around by some idiot boy who thought cycling around the town in the middle of the night sounded like a good idea. They were just fortunate that Castiel’s bike had lights.

They barely even reached the end of the road before Castiel could hear something behind him. A beat. Muffled singing. Music. _Music_?

“What are you doing?” he huffed, realizing absently that Dean only had one hand on his shoulder now. God only knew what he was doing with the other one.

“Playin’ music,” was the only explanation Dean gave, and Castiel couldn’t even be bothered to push for more information. It wasn’t loud enough to wake anybody up, he thought, the only people that could hear it was him and Dean. “Juke Box Hero,” Dean continued when Castiel said nothing, his hand tightening on Castiel’s shoulder as they went over a bump in the road. It was hard to avoid, given the fact that Castiel could barely see where he was going.

After a moment, the music became less annoying and shifted to being strangely motivational. Castiel felt fueled with adrenaline as he sped up, Dean’s other hand now moving to press against his waist for balance and Castiel could feel the shape of Dean’s phone digging into his hip, the music blaring out. The only thing he could hear over the sound of the drums and guitar was Dean’s out of tune singing, the bike shaking as he bounced along to the beat behind Castiel. And a part of him desperately wanted to hate it (he hated every time Gabriel played his obnoxiously loud music, after all) but at the same time, Castiel just couldn’t help but be endeared by the other boy and his weird ability to be completely and unabashedly himself.

By the time they reached the hill, they’d gone through two songs which had blurred into one - in fact, Castiel wouldn’t have been surprised if Dean had just hit the replay button. He started to slow down, watching the way the road dipped with the sudden steepness.

“Speed up,” Dean instructed suddenly, and the music became muffled as he dropped his phone into his jacket pocket.

Castiel snapped his neck around to look at him. “What, are you crazy? I’m not speeding up.” Definitely not without a helmet on, at _least_. What if he lost control? “We’ll fall off.”

“We won’t,” Dean promised, “and if we do, then I’ll make sure you come out on top, remember?”

To say Castiel wasn’t convinced in the slightest would be an understatement to the greatest degree. This was too far.

He swallowed as they edged even nearer to the hill, still going at the same pace as before. Castiel’s fingers hovered over the breaks.

“You got this, man,” Dean added, squeezing Castiel’s shoulders gently. And for some reason, that tiny, _tiny_ reassurance felt like enough. Or at least, now suddenly Castiel felt more inclined to prove himself to the other boy. Dean said he’s got this. And maybe he just well _did_.

Pressing his lips together, Castiel pushed himself harder on the bike as they neared the hill. His grip tightened on the handlebars, just as Dean’s tightened on his shoulder. After a moment, he felt the weight of the other boy become even heavier against his back, but he held himself up straighter to support him. He realized too late that Dean was helping himself stand up on the back of Castiel’s bike, his feet now balanced where he had been sat.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel breathed out, Dean’s hands still on his shoulders, less tight now.

“Keep going. Keep going.”

He could hear Dean laughing, and Castiel could feel the cool night air against his cheeks, calming him down, so he did as he was told. As they reached the hill, Castiel lost control of the pedals, the speed of the bike becoming too fast for his legs to keep up with the movement of the wheels. His breath caught in panic, but behind him he heard Dean whoop with joy.

“Hell yeah!” Dean yelled as they whirred down the road. Castiel wasn’t convinced he was even on a bike at this point - it just felt like he was _flying_ . He lifted his feet off the pedals, deciding not to fight it anymore as the air rushed against his face, the adrenaline flooding his stomach. At some point, he realized he was laughing - laughing so hard his throat hurt from it. His cheeks ached from smiling, and his shoulders stung from the way Dean’s grip tightened as a precaution. It was _incredible_.

For a moment, Castiel closed his eyes. He felt entirely weightless just then, and completely, utterly _liberated_.

He’d snuck out in the middle of the night. That was against the rules. And now he was speeding down a hill on a bike without a helmet. Again; against the rules. His father would _kill_ him. One slip, and maybe he wouldn’t even need to - Castiel could very easily just fall off this bike here and now, and that would be it.

God. Castiel _loved_ it.

Exhilarated, was the only way Castiel could describe the way he felt as they reached the bottom, Dean laughing breathlessly at his back as he sat back down behind him, a hand clapping Castiel on the shoulder amicably. “That was awesome, man,” Dean said, sounding as out of breath as Castiel felt. “Fuckin’ awesome. Jeez. How have you never done that before?”

Castiel thought about it, shaking his head as his feet found the pedals again, the bike slowing naturally on its own. “It never occured to me that I could,” he replied honestly, reaching up to try and flatten his hair again. Maybe Dean’s brain was just wired differently? Whilst Castiel would never have looked at this hill and seen anything other than a potentially dangerous situation; Dean had looked at it and seen a fun activity. A fun activity to do at one o’clock in the morning with a boy he barely knew. “Not everyone’s as insane as you, it seems,” he added with a chuckle, feeling Dean’s own laughter against his back by way of reply.

They carried on until they reached the park, Castiel tying his bike up against the fence once he and Dean had climbed off of it. He was exhausted, but when Dean shoved at him, he didn’t hesitate to retaliate. Dean’s laughter came so freely once again, the two of them pushing at each other until Castiel forgot about the aches of his muscles. He didn’t even think about how tired he was as he found himself racing Dean through the grass, heading toward the climbing frames and monkey bars.

“You’re fast!” Dean yelled between breaths, and Castiel’s eyes narrowed. He could be faster than Dean if he put his mind to it.

He reached the monkey bars first, slowing to a stop and feeling a little smug at the way Dean rolled his eyes, cheeks red from the exertion. “Show off,” the Winchester muttered, before he was jumping onto the climbing frame and pulling himself up.

“Hypocrite,” Castiel retorted childishly.

Dean’s eyebrows jumped playfully at that, sticking out a hand as an offer for Castiel to take. Their hands clasped together neatly, and Castiel pushed himself off the ground as Dean pulled him up, the two of them settling uncomfortably on the monkey bars after a while. Castiel swung his legs absently, starting to feel the cold for the first time now that he was no longer in motion.

They sat there for a moment in peaceful silence, the two of them catching their breath together.

“How was school?” Castiel finally asked, his head tipped back so that he could look up at the stars, each one shining like glitter against dark velvet.

“My school?”

Castiel gave Dean a look. “What other school would I be talking about?”

Dean shrugged. “School was fine. Like every other one I’ve been to, so…”

“How many have you been to?”

At that, Dean smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. “Too many to count,” he murmured simply. “We move around a lot, cos of my dad’s job. Longest I ever stayed anywhere was a year.”

“A year?” Castiel repeated, his stomach sinking. A _year_? Castiel couldn’t even imagine moving around so much; he had lived in this town for his entire life, after all. The idea of having to adjust to new places constantly like that made him feel a little sick.

And then his stomach sank for an entirely different reason.

“How long do you think you’ll live here for?” he asked hesitantly.

Dean met his eyes, his expression unreadable briefly before he shrugged again. “For as long as I can,” he smiled slightly.

“What about finals and everything? Your schoolwork?”

Dean laughed hollowly. “Dude, I gave up on school years back. I’m not much fussed about grades an’ shit these days.”

That didn’t sit right with Castiel either. Everybody deserved a chance to do well in the education system; it wasn’t Dean’s fault that his life had got in the way of his schooling. And it was coming to the end of the year now; finals were looming ahead. Castiel already had his revision schedule sorted out, but Dean didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He’d probably missed out on a lot of the content, too, if he’d moved schools as much as he claimed.

“I can help you study,” Castiel told him.

Dean scoffed. “I don’t wanna study, man. It’s pointless.”

“It’s not pointless.” Castiel reached his foot out and kicked Dean’s gently, getting his attention once Dean’s gaze had drifted elsewhere. Dean looked over at him, unimpressed. “You said you wanted someone to do fun stuff with, and I came through for you, didn’t I?” He raised his eyebrows and Dean pulled a face. “Well, I want someone to study with.”

“So, what, I teach you to have fun - you teach me school stuff?” Dean clarified, unconvinced. “That’s so lame.”

“It’s not lame - don’t you wanna go to college?”

Dean’s nose wrinkled at that and he looked almost offended by the idea. “I’m not going to college. Someone’s gotta stick around and keep an eye on Sam whenever my dad’s away.”

“It’s just the three of you?”

Castiel watched carefully as Dean picked at a loose thread in the tear of his jeans, not looking his way anymore. From this angle, it was easy for the Novak to take in the slope of Dean’s jaw and the rise of his cheekbones, the way his nose angled off to one side as though he’d broken it in the past. It was too dark for Castiel to see his freckles.

“Just the three of us,” Dean affirmed finally, voice quieter before he cleared his throat. “My mom’s dead.”

He said it so casually that it caught Castiel by surprise, and whilst his mind went blank in that moment, Castiel immediately had a hundred more questions to ask the other boy. Obviously, none of which he would.

“So is mine,” he said instead, managing a weak, grimace of a smile when Dean looked as surprised as Castiel had felt a moment later. It wasn’t anything to smile about, of course, but what else were they supposed to do? _Talk_ about it? If Dean was anything like Castiel in that regard, then talking about such a thing would be very much a non-option.

“Sucks, huh,” Dean sighed, reaching up to scratch at his nose, but Castiel said nothing.

He thought about everything constantly - he was renowned for being an overthinker and for overcomplicating literally every aspect of his life imaginable: the one thing he never thought about, however, was his mother. Ever. It was as though that part of him had just shut down the moment she had died. He wasn’t about to start dwelling on it now, just because he happened to meet somebody else whose mom had passed away.

Thankfully, Dean didn’t press the matter. Instead, they both wound up just sitting on the monkey bars together for what felt like hours, their legs swinging idly as Dean played some more music quietly from his phone. They didn’t talk about anything, but Castiel was grateful for the company. And he was grateful for the peace his mind he was able to attain in that moment, just focusing on the stars and the moon, and forgetting about everything else. He was surprised at how easily he managed to find himself relaxing around Dean; someone who, really - in the grand scheme of things - he barely knew anything about.

Dean, he decided, was someone that Castiel certainly wouldn’t mind getting to know.

“Fine,” Dean said at last out of nowhere, switching his music off as Castiel looked in his direction once again. “You can help me study, if it makes you feel better.”

He didn’t look too pleased about it, but Castiel would take it as a win nonetheless. “That does make me feel better, actually,” he hummed as he started to push himself off the monkey bars carefully, allowing himself to drop back down onto the ground with a light thud.

For a moment, he forgot about Dean as he looked across the park again. It was beautiful at night, with only the sound of the trees rustling in the breeze to break the silence (that, and Dean’s music, of course). He didn’t even realise Dean had been moving on the monkey bars until a hand on his shoulder nudged him around. He turned, his lips parting in surprise. Although, at this point, Castiel shouldn’t even be taken aback by anything this boy did. “Dean, you will fall,” he warned with a sigh, but Dean merely grinned.

“Who do I remind you of?” Dean asked, voice a little raspy. He was hanging upside down from the monkey bars, his legs looped over the top with his face at an almost equal level to Castiel’s. It was hard for Castiel pay attention to what Dean was saying, since his jacket was hanging completely upside down and his hoodie had slipped down to his chin, successfully revealing a long stretch of his stomach. It shone pale in the moonlight. “C’mon, Cas,” Dean prompted. “Who do I remind you of?”

“An idiot, perhaps,” Castiel offered, forcing himself not to smile.

Dean rolled his eyes, cheeks becoming redder by the second. “Ass,” he managed to say, the word sounding a little tight.

“You’re going to get the worst headache if you fall.”

“Who am I?” Dean repeated stubbornly.

“I don’t know, Dean. Who are you?”

Dean paused for a moment, still hanging there as he looked at Castiel, as though trying to decide whether Castiel was just messing with him, or if he really didn’t know the answer. “I’m Spiderman,” he said eventually. Castiel stared blankly back, and Dean let out a huff. “Dude. It’s _iconic_. The Spiderman kiss?”

Castiel swallowed, feeling his neck heat up as he shook his head, still not sure what Dean was talking about, but suddenly he felt uncomfortable with the topic. What did Dean want him to say? Or _worse_ . What did Dean want him to _do_?

When Castiel said nothing, Dean cleared his throat, his face now completely red; but Castiel wasn’t sure it was just from hanging upside down anymore. “Forget it,” he mumbled, looking away.

For the first time, Castiel found himself unable to stand the quiet between them both. No matter how brief it was. “Are you going to climb down?” he asked, just to break the silence.

It was then that Dean looked a little sheepish, his gaze sliding back to meet Castiel’s. “Uh. I don’t really know how to,” he admitted after a pause. Castiel raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. Immediately any tension between them dissipated.

“What do you mean you don't know how to - how did you get up there?”

“I climbed, _duh_. You saw me.”

“So climb back down. _Duh_.”

“It's not as simple as that, you jackass.”

As they argued, Dean reached forward to push at Castiel's shoulder - a move which drastically backfired on him. He swung slightly, losing his balance as he scrambled for a grip on Castiel's shoulder, and then on the bars, and then when he next looked at Castiel, his face was ever so slightly green.

“Help me get down,” he insisted, and Castiel's lips parted in protest. “I mean it, Cas, I’m gonna be sick.”

With a long-suffering eye roll, Castiel obliged. He was starting to learn that arguing with Dean seemed like a futile activity. He reached forwards, his heart jumping into his throat as his hands settled onto Dean’s hips, his thumbs brushing briefly against Dean’s skin before he shifted them carefully into a safer space. This operation already felt even more nerve wracking than the cycling had done earlier, and Castiel was preemptively dreading the hell his muscles were about to go through. “Okay, swing your legs over. I've got you,” he promised, gritting his teeth in preparation for when Dean did exactly that.

He staggered a little beneath the sudden extra weight, Dean's legs falling forwards and over the back of Castiel's shoulder. Castiel held him up, though, and after some added shuffling and falling around, Dean finally had two feet back on the ground.

Castiel stepped back, rubbing at his shoulder absently as his arms burned. “Satisfied?” he sighed, glancing at his watch and feeling his stomach fall at the realization that it was now well past two o’clock. He rubbed at his eyes, barely even reacting as Dean squeezed his shoulder in thanks.

  
“You look half dead,” the other boy commented helpfully, and Castiel shot him a glare. Dean held his hands up placatingly, but Castiel saw the twitch of his lips as he fought back a smile. It wasn’t _funny_. He was exhausted, and this time there was no music or adrenaline rush to distract him from that fact.

Perhaps Dean could see that, because his face shifted into an expression more sober than before, one that was almost apologetic. “Come on,” he said quietly, “we should head home.”

Castiel certainly didn’t argue with that. Perhaps he would just have to skip training in the morning.

When they reached his bike again, Castiel untied it from the park fence, but before he could climb on, Dean was nudging him aside. Castiel raised an eyebrow and Dean raised one back, the two of them silently challenging each other for a moment. No way was Castiel letting Dean ride his bike - if something happened and he broke it, then Castiel would actually murder him - and aside from that, he also didn’t want to be completely defeated. Dean seemed to be surviving his own exhaustion far better than Castiel was.

“Get on the back,” Dean said anyway, breaking the silence as he climbed onto the bike.

“You know, I’m not too tired to cycle myself.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t make it a big deal, okay? Just get on so we can get going before you collapse right where you’re stood.”

Castiel scowled, but he did as he was told. He climbed onto the back of the bike, his hands on Dean’s shoulders as he hesitantly sat down on the rear rack. As suspected, it was _beyond_ uncomfortable. Castiel had no idea how Dean had survived the ride to the park in the first place. He could feel the metal digging into his thighs on either side as he lifted his feet off the ground - and _hell_ , his legs were going to ache soon enough if he had to hold them up the entire time. How had Dean managed it without complaint?

“We could just walk,” Castiel sighed, even as Dean settled in front of him and pushed off, steering the bike out of the park.

“S’quicker this way,” he heard Dean say, his voice a little weak as he worked to get the bike moving.

At that, Castiel said nothing. Arguing was futile, as he’d already decided. So he just let Dean take the wheel, his arms getting tired after a while as he leaned forwards. He turned his head to the side, his cheek resting against the back of Dean’s shoulder as his hands fell to his waist instead. A tiny part of Castiel thought he should sit straighter, keep his hands on Dean’s shoulders and not lean on him so closely, but larger part of Castiel (the part that won) was too tired to care. If Dean minded, then he didn’t say.

And besides, Dean had thrown stones at Castiel’s bedroom window only an hour or so previously; he couldn’t exactly complain about overstepping boundaries at this point.

By the time they reached home again, Castiel could tell that even Dean was getting tired. He’d cycled _up_ that hill, after all. Castiel wasn’t sure he’d have had the strength to do that, and certainly not in his current state anyway. Eventually, however, they were pulling into Castiel’s drive and slowing to a stop.

Castiel let his feet hit the ground, his head still leaning against Dean’s shoulder, his eyes half shut. The night air was cool against his skin, but the warmth radiating through Dean’s leather jacket kept him from feeling the cold too much, and as eager for bed as Castiel was, he just couldn’t bring himself to actually get up and head inside. Even the idea of climbing up his ladder at this point sounded like a bad one.

“Did I wake you up?” Dean asked finally, breaking the silence as he shifted a little. Castiel opened his eyes and leaned back reluctantly, trying to figure out what Dean’s question meant. “When I threw the stones at your window, I mean.”

At that, Castiel shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted with a tiny smile, one which he saw Dean return after a moment, his cheek dimpling on one side.

Castiel climbed off the bike then, tugging his hoodie up closer around his neck as he watched Dean follow suit. “Maybe we should think of a more effective way to communicate,” Dean smirked as he passed the bike over to Castiel. “You got a phone?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Of course I have a phone.”

As usual, his annoyance appeared to go straight over the Winchester’s head, like water off a duck’s back, and Castiel raised an unimpressed eyebrow as Dean merely grinned brightly and fished his phone out of his pocket. He passed it over to Castiel a moment later, enabling him to type in his number underneath his name.

“Awesome,” Dean hummed when Castiel passed the phone back. He looked down at the screen, the light illuminating his face for a moment before he pocketed his phone once more. “So, I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Castiel murmured, already mentally planning ahead to envision when he might be free to spend time with Dean again. He _wanted_ to spend time with him again. Perhaps not at one o’clock in the morning, though. “Goodnight.”

Dean offered Castiel a salute, before he was turning up the collar of his jacket and heading across the road. As he left, Castiel head inside. He abandoned his bike in the garage again before being as quiet as physically possible as he climbed up the stairs and then up the ladder to his room. He could feel his own tiredness, bone deep, at that point.

As he moved to shut his curtains, however, Castiel paused, spotting a shadow in one of the upstairs windows in the house across from his. It was Dean’s house. So that was Dean’s room. The shadow paused in the window, and Castiel could just about make him out; could imagine him smiling from the distance. Or offering another salute his way.

The light in Dean’s bedroom flicked off and then on again in quick succession, and Castiel smirked as he followed suit, switching his own lights on and off. In his hand, his phone vibrated, a simple message coming through from an unknown contact.

_Night, Cas. DW_

His lips twitched into a smile as he read it, not feeling the need to reply, but he supposed Dean was right. Phones certainly could be a good way for them to communicate in the future. Less damaging for his windows.

Without another thought (or anymore distractions) Castiel made his way across his bedroom in the dark and climbed into his bed. He had company this time, however, in the form of a long haired tabby cat who was curled up on his pillow, her paws stretching out when she was disturbed. Castiel ignored her as he settled in his bed, careful not to upset her with his head as he rested it against the furthest corner of the pillow and switched off his bedside lamp. Sir Gideon’s tail flicked against the back of his neck absently and Castiel’s final thought was of how similar a sensation it was to the feeling of Dean’s breath against his neck as they’d cycled to the park that night.

A part of him thought it might all have been a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I hope it was okay, and if you have any advice / feedback then please leave a comment! <3


	4. the one on the day of rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry it's been a while since I updated, in all honesty ive had a week from absolute hell and this just went to the back of my mind entirely - also honestly not a fan of this chapter at all (understatement!), for some reason it was just really hard to write but the idea of rewriting it all made me wanna die, so i just thought id flippin post it and be done with it so i can get to the next chapter (which I'm more excited for), so just bear with me on this one, hopefully it'll get better <3 <3

_“God always has a plan, Castiel.”_

_Warm hands held his face, his cheeks damp, but thumbs brushed the tears away. Strong hands. A gentle voice. It was what Castiel could remember._

_The voice broke as it spoke again._

_“I know this hurts. But look at what God has given us... You have a sister now, Castiel. She will ease our pain, I promise you.”_

_You have a sister now, Castiel._

_She will ease our pain._

 

* * *

 

Castiel woke with a start.

His eyes opened. Air filled his lungs. His dream slipped away, back into his unconscious, as he became aware of something prodding at his shoulder gently.

He didn’t know he had that dream often.

“Cas.”

There was the prod again, followed by a small hand shaking him insistently.

Blinking blearily, Castiel waited as the world came into focus; first the slanting wood of his bedroom walls, then his bedside table, the alarm clock flashing the time obnoxiously in his direction. 6:13AM. It was far too early to be alive.

“ _Cas_.”

“Not now,” Castiel mumbled, not even rolling over. He knew exactly who it was. “Let me sleep.”

Behind him, Anna sniffed, her prodding only pausing for a moment.

It was Sunday now. Meaning that precisely two days had passed since Castiel had snuck out in the night with Dean Winchester, and in that time he had barely managed to get one full night’s sleep. And although Castiel had to be awake for church that morning, he didn’t have to be awake _just yet_.

Still, it became increasingly obvious that Anna wasn’t going to relent until she had Castiel’s complete attention.

Rolling over with a sigh, Castiel sat up on his elbows and fixed his younger sister an unimpressed stare. All he received was a pout. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.

It was then that he noticed the redness around Anna’s eyes, from lack of sleep or from tears, Castiel couldn’t be sure. Either way, he didn’t like it.

“They’re arguing again,” was all Anna said, and Castiel felt his heart sink. He glanced back at his alarm clock, lips pursing into a frown before he pulled back his covers and shifted over in his bed, making room for Anna who climbed in without another word.

  
Castiel lay on his back, looking up at his ceiling as his sister curled up against his side. He let out a long sigh.

“Did it wake you up?” he asked finally, feeling Anna’s nod of confirmation against his shoulder by way of reply. If Castiel closed his eyes and listened with every fibre of his being, then he was sure he’d be able to hear the dulled sound of Gabriel and his father. Gabriel was probably threatening to run away again, as he often did. “Do you know what they’re arguing about?”

“Gabe doesn’t want to go to church,” Anna explained. “And he doesn’t want to go to the youth group again afterwards.”

It was typical, really. When was the last time Gabriel had done anything their father said without complaint?

“Ignore him,” Castiel said simply, rolling his eyes at the thought of his older brother. “I can talk to him later. Just go back to sleep.”

“I don’t like it when they fight.”  
  
“No one likes it, Anna. Just forget about it.”

And that was all Castiel had to say on the matter. Without another word, he was turning onto his side, gesturing for Anna to face the other way, before he wound an arm around her middle, her head tucked beneath his chin and her back against his chest. It felt like the most efficient way to comfort her, whilst making it clear that Castiel intended on sleeping for another two more hours as opposed to talking things through. It wasn't as though _talking_ about the issue would solve anything; Castiel was just grateful that his father was never around enough for any arguing to be a regular occurance.

Although, he did hate that his father was rarely home.

It was a Sunday, though, and some Sundays his father would take the day off work. He would accompany them to church - and those were the days when Gabriel wouldn’t be able to get away with skipping the youth group afterwards, as he did most weeks whilst their father was away. Castiel, personally, enjoyed the youth group. It was something to do, at least.

He slept for another hour or so, waking up to the smell of Anna’s strawberry shampoo as she dozed next to him. It didn’t ever take much for her to fall back asleep, and that day was no different to any other time before.

Carefully, Castiel untangled her arms from around his, before he was peeling the covers off himself and climbing out of bed. He stretched, his spine popping gently. Sunday was generally the only day of the week when Castiel didn’t have any set exercise plan, yet he still found himself craving a run. Perhaps he would go after youth group, just to scratch the itch.

A glance over his shoulder told him that Anna was still sound asleep in his bed, her arm hanging over the edge. He tucked it under the blankets gently before he was climbing down his ladder, on a mission to find himself some breakfast.

Instead, he found his brother.

Castiel raised an eyebrow at the sight.

“You don’t look ready for church,” he commented as he opened one of the cupboards, hoping to find some cereal.

Gabriel was sitting on the counter in his boxers, a carton of milk in hand, half empty no doubt. He was (mercifully) wearing a dressing gown and a shirt which had the words ‘ _if you don’t like tacos, then I’m nacho type_ ’ embroidered across the front in an obnoxiously vibrant hot pink. As Castiel spoke, he looked over, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m not going,” was all he said, chugging back another mouthful of milk a moment later.

Castiel grimaced. He would have to have his cereal dry, then.

“If this is some kind of point you’re trying to make,” he said with a sigh, “then it’s ridiculous, and waking up the whole house at six in the morning, acting like a _child_ is-”

  
“- _I_ wasn’t the one acting like a child,” Gabriel interrupted, sliding off the counter, his lips pursed.

“Why were you even awake that early?”

Something flickered across Gabriel’s face just then, and he rolled his eyes as he looked away, taking another drink from the milk carton petulantly. “I came home as Dad was leaving for work,” he admitted at last.

That sentence had Castiel frowning for two reasons. The main reason, obviously, being that Gabriel was coming _home_ at six o’clock in the morning. Home from _where_?

The second (less important) reason was that it implied their father actually hadn’t taken the day off for church after all. Which, upon reflection, perhaps explained why he wasn’t in the kitchen.

“Where had you been?” Castiel asked as he found himself some fruit loops and moved to take a seat up the table.

Gabriel didn't reply for some time, his fingers tapping against the kitchen countertop. “I was at Kali’s,” he said finally, his eyes rolling in annoyance.

“Kali who?”

“Just some girl called Kali, Cas, what does it matter?” he huffed, and Castiel felt his cheeks warm.

_Oh._

“So _that's_ why Dad was arguing with you,” he decided then, his nose wrinkling as he dug into his fruit loops. “Anna thought it was about church.”

Gabriel let out a long sigh as he moved to sit down next to Castiel, running a hand through his hair as he did so. He fixed Castiel with a long stare, his usually bright eyes now dull with what felt like deeply suppressed frustration. Castiel's spoonful of cereal paused on its way to his mouth. It was rare that Gabriel looked so serious.

“We argued about church, too,” his brother finally said. “Dad threatened to ground me, but he isn't exactly around enough to enforce that. Then he threatened to put me into that dumb youth group programme every week, as though that crap has ever worked on me in the past anyway. And I'm _tired_ of it, Cas.” He paused then, his eyebrows knitting together. “I'm _eighteen_. I’m getting out of here the second I can, and Dad can suck it with his church bullcrap and let me go my own way. And you should come with me.”

Castiel's face twisted at that and he let out a choked laugh. “I'm not coming with you. You're the only one who doesn't like it here.”  

“What, you're telling me you actually _like_ all this? The churchy school with the church _this_ and the church _that_ , and ‘ _Jesus died for our sins, so God forbid we have a good time’_?”

The point seemed to have entirely gone over Gabriel's head, and Castiel sighed. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“I don't hate it,” he told his brother, truthfully. “I believe in God. And so should you.”

Gabriel scoffed at that. “The hell has God ever done for us, huh?”

It was a foolish question, in Castiel's opinion. God had done a lot for them - he'd created the _universe_ for one thing. He had given them _life_ . And a good one at that. Of course, there were hardships, and their lives had hardly been perfect, but that was okay - and it was okay _because_ Castiel believed in God. A God that loved him and would protect him, and most importantly, one that was in perfect control; everything happened for a reason. It gave him a sense of peace.

“Look, Gabriel,” Castiel muttered finally, taking a few more mouthfuls of his cereal before he set his spoon down, deciding he wasn't hungry enough to eat anything else. He looked over at his brother. “I'm sorry you don't believe in God,” he said calmly, “but I do. And so does Dad. You should at least try and respect that he is raising us the way he thinks is best.”

“Because his absence always gave us such a great childhood, I forgot,” Gabriel sneered, standing up then, the chair scraping against the floor as he did so. “You should consider this, _baby bro_ : would you believe in God _half_ as much as you do right now, had it not been for Dad’s pushy agenda for us to be the holiest kids on the planet?”

He stared down at Castiel, and Castiel could feel his gaze almost painfully as he looked at his bowl of half eaten cereal. It was hardly a question Castiel hadn’t already considered. Gabriel no doubt thought he was stupid, or blind in his faith, but he _wasn’t_.

  
Finally, Castiel stood up, barely glancing at his brother as he passed him to head to the sink, his bowl in hand. “If you don’t want to go to church, then don’t. I’m not going to force you,” he said as he ran the water. “But I’m not going to cover up for you either.”

“Course not,” Gabriel muttered. “That’d be too nice of you.”

Castiel clenched his jaw, not looking up from the bowl he was washing out. He hated arguing - he avoided it at all costs, and generally so did Gabriel, if he could help it. They especially avoided arguing with each other, for a hundred different reasons. Mainly because they usually understood each other. Sort of. Gabriel was different from Anna; he had been through everything Castiel had been through. They had just handled it in very different ways.

“You’re selfish, you know?” Castiel said quietly, before he could stop himself. He still didn’t look over, but he could feel Gabriel’s gaze still fixed on his back. “Dad does everything for us. He works as hard as he does so that we can have a good life - and this is how you repay him?” He grabbed a towel, starting to dry his bowl as he shot his brother a hard glare. “By sneaking out with your friends, by skipping church, by spending nights with random girls. What are you _gaining_ from that?”

Something shifted in Gabriel’s expression, and he moved from merely sneering or scoffing at Castiel’s words, to instead looking harsh. Angry. He was Castiel’s older brother, and his every instinct just then was to side with him. They were usually on an equal level, they usually understood each other. But not this time - never about this.

After some time, Gabriel broke looked away in order to drain the remains of his milk, screwing the lid on the carton and throwing it into the trash carelessly. Carelessly, like everything else he did was. “I don’t wanna follow Dad’s crackpot rules all the time,” he said finally, moving into Castiel’s space. “And I get punished for it. Dad loves you on one condition.” He raised an eyebrow. “That you do as you’re _told_ . He’s just raised you to be everybody’s doormat, and it’s _working_. So sue me for not wanting to be like you.”

His eyes were cold, and Castiel swallowed, _hating_ it. He thought about Gabriel in school, the way that he would smile so easily, the way that people would sit around him at lunch, laughing at everything he said. He could hold a crowd’s attention as easily as breathing, and Castiel _envied_ him for it. But here? At home? For once, Castiel was beating his brother at one thing. He just wished he could be happy about it.

Gabriel shook his head as Castiel said nothing, and he left without another word. Castiel watched as the kitchen door creaked closed behind him.

Despite what Gabriel had said, Castiel still went to church that morning, and he took Anna with him. They sat through mass, then attended the youth group afterwards, and during every pause to pray, Castiel prayed that his brother would come around. He prayed that he could be strong enough to withstand the disagreements at home, and he prayed that Anna would stay unaware of the tension in their family for as long as possible. He was just grateful that his issues paled in comparison to most people’s.

He went on a run after church, as planned, his lungs working and his legs burning with every stride he took, but it was the kind of pain that Castiel craved. His mind felt clearer, and he felt enlightened. He had God on his side, after all. Gabriel just didn’t understand the peace that thought brought to him.

It was only once he neared home that Castiel realized he hadn’t thought about Dean Winchester once that day.

Of course, even as he thought it, it became untrue.

He slowed down, his shirt sweat stained and his hair plastered to his forehead, and there was Dean in the road, a soccer ball between his feet, his brother further ahead. The ball sailed over to Sam as Castiel found his footfalls becoming steadier. Slower than before. He had just come to a stop and was busy stretching out his hamstrings when Dean looked over, their eyes meeting briefly.

Castiel looked disgusting, there was no denying that. His face was no doubt flushed, and his skin was no doubt shining with sweat. He was out of breath and his bones ached, but at the same time he was exhilarated. He didn’t care in the slightest how he looked, instead he felt the corner of his mouth twitch in the beginnings of a smile as he looked away again, not pausing in his stretches.

He could still feel Dean’s eyes on him as he head up his drive, but he only glanced back once he was stepping indoors,, watching as Dean distractedly caught the ball Sam had head his way, his feet almost fumbling as he did so. Even from the distance, Castiel could see that his ears were bright red.

The sight made him smile, and he was still smiling as he head up the stairs a moment later, pulling his sweaty shirt over his head as he made a beeline for the bathroom. He had the longest, coldest shower imaginable, his body thrumming pleasantly as he dried himself off afterwards. Downstairs, he could hear the TV playing and the sound of people laughing. No doubt Gabriel had friends over - maybe Balthazar? Maybe even that girl, Kali. Castiel wasn’t about to ask. He wasn’t in the mood to think about his brother. He liked the distraction that church and running and _Dean_ had all provided.

And so, Castiel spent the rest of the day distracting himself in every way imaginable. He finished his homework for the week, watered his plants, even practised the piano, and by the time the sun had fallen, he was curled up in bed with a book and a feeling of vague contentment.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be woken up at a ridiculous hour again, he thought to himself. A full night’s sleep. That’s all he wanted.

Of course, when had Castiel ever gotten what he wanted?

Instead of his sister poking at him, or his brother yelling for him downstairs, or stones against his window from the crazy boy across the road, Castiel’s disturbance came in the form of two soft buzzes from his phone on the bedside table. He looked over at it, seeing the name that lit up his screen. Almost naturally, it had to be Dean.

_Hey, man. Can you help me out with my English essay this week? If you’re free. DW_

_Ps. lemme know if you ever need a running partner. DW_

Castiel pressed his lips together, reading and rereading the texts, over and over. He tried to imagine Dean in his own bedroom across the road, maybe lying on his bed as he typed the words out. He couldn’t even imagine what Dean’s bedroom might look like. It was probably nothing like Castiel’s own, with his cluttered mess of belongings, and stuffed boxes stacked against one wall in the corner, some of which served as shelves for his books or his plants.

_I can help you with your essay any time. And I do prefer to run alone, but perhaps the company might be nice every so often. CN_

He sent the message, returning to his book only to read the same sentence three times over until his phone buzzed again against his chest.

_Sure. You’re just worried I might be faster. Wednesday night good for you? DW_

He smirked, running through his schedule for the week in an attempt to figure out which nights he might have training.

_Wednesday night works. What’s the essay on? CN_

Dean’s reply was almost immediate.

_Great Gatsby and Grapes of Wrath. You read them? DW_

_Only Gatsby. CN_

_Doin better than me then. DW_

_When’s the essay due? CN_

_  
_ _Friday. DW_

Castiel’s nose wrinkled at that. And Dean hadn’t even read the books yet? _Heck_.

_Read the books. ASAP. CN_

_I am! They’re boring as shit tho. DW_

_Examiners don’t care about your entertainment. Read them. CN_

The next time Castiel’s phone buzzed, it wasn’t because of a text, per se. Instead, what popped up on his screen was a picture from Dean. He felt his stomach flip.

It was Dean, lying in his bed, a book held up to his face, covering his mouth from sight as his eyes were rolled dramatically to the ceiling behind the front cover. His hair was more stuck up than usual, as though he’d been running his hands through it, and if Castiel looked close enough then he could tell that Dean wasn’t wearing a shirt. He wondered if the grainy, low quality state of the picture was to blame for the reason as to why he couldn’t see all of Dean’s usual freckles. Maybe he even had freckles on his _shoulders_? Castiel would need a better picture to know for sure. Not that he supposed it mattered all too much.

He wished his cheeks would stop aching from his smile, though.

_Good work. Keep it up. Make notes for Wednesday. CN_

_Yessir. DW_

Castiel chewed his lip - yet another attempt to keep himself from smiling so wide. It wasn’t his fault; he was just excited. He decided to abandon his book somewhere on his bed, and instead moved to curl up on his side, phone cradled in his hand. It was as though Dean was living in his phone alone. Thinking about it like that made everything feel even more private and safe.

_I’m going to sleep now. CN_

_Already? DW_

_Yes, Dean. Some of us need to rest sometimes. CN_

He reached across, switching his bedside lamp off and plunging the room into total darkness, his phone vibrating against his chest where it was pressed.

_Can’t relate. Night, buddy. DW_

Castiel smiled sleepily to himself at that, making sure his phone was plugged in to charge as he typed out his final goodnight by way of reply and set his phone down for good. It didn’t vibrate again. And at last, Castiel was able to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! glad you survived <3 also comments/kudos, or honestly any form of feedback (pigeon mail for eg), is always so appreciated, pls lemme know how i'm doing/how I can improve! ... and thank you so so much to everyone who's commented in the past, you guys are the best, it really motivates me a lot :)


End file.
